Hex
by Emmylou
Summary: When a magical virus infects a group of witches and wizards, it gives them the power to get the things they want most, regardless of right or wrong. Now Harry is missing and Ron, Hermione, and Luna must fight monsters from their past to save their world.
1. Pilot 1 of 3

**Title**: Hex

**Author**: Emmylou

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter is the property of J K Rowling. This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun story. The legend of the chained oak on which parts of this story are based belongs to Alton Towers, and by extension the Madame Tussauds group.

**Ships**: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Luna, Ron/Luna friendship. Those are the eventual pairings- anything might happen in between.

**A/N**: This is a concept I've had rattling around for a while. The only way I can describe it is as a TV series – twenty-two episodes following several season arcs. That means that each episode is a whole story in its own right, building up to tell a larger, longer story. Thanks to my marvellous PI Beta **Dark Hamadryad, **who successfully avoided all the wells, pits, and lion dens I could imagine to bring this fic to you.

**Summary**

_Imagine you could have whatever you wanted._

_When a magical virus infects a group of trapped witches and wizards, it gives them the power to get the things they want most, regardless of good or bad, right or wrong. _

_Now Harry is missing and Ron, Hermione, and Luna must fight monsters from their past to find Harry and trap the virus before it kills its victims – or forces its victims to kill. _

**Episode One: Pilot**

Lester Prentice went through the day not killing all sorts of people.

A passing wizard, laden down with shopping, asked him the time. Prentice told him and even helped the man when he got his beard caught in a hungry cookbook snapping from the top of his bags. The wizard walked off impressed with the stranger's kindness and most definitely _alive_.

The thing was, Ron Weasley seemed terribly obsessed with the people Prentice _had_ killed. That was the thing about Hit-Wizards; they never listened to your side of the story.

Prentice knew all about Ron. Ron had become a Hit-Wizard because he hadn't had the marks to be an Auror; Potter had because he hadn't wanted to be an Auror by himself. They were famed for always getting their wizard, and for never having killed or injured one of their catches.

This suited Prentice fine; he had no morals about murder at all, but he appreciated someone trying not to kill him.

Currently, Prentice was waiting for Ron in the shadows of Diagon Alley. He had snapped Ron's wand in their brief tussle outside The Leaky Cauldron, and now, Ron was inside the newly opened American wand shop, trying to find a replacement before Prentice hunted him down.

A little girl tripped as her mother rushed her down the street, dropping her toy broomstick. Prentice grinned and bent down to pick it up for her. The girl took it back, and the mother smiled in thanks before rushing her child into Flourish & Blotts.

And look- he hadn't killed them either.

He prided himself on that if he _had_ killed them, they wouldn't have even known about it. He looked so unthreatening that often people didn't realise they were about to die until he'd finished the curse.

Prentice looked innocent. At twenty-six, he was tall and slim, with (he fancied) a smile that made hearts flutter. His manners were smooth and polite; he was the perfect guest at any party.

If he had one failing, it was his simple belief that other people's property belonged solely to him- including their lives. When there was something he liked, he would simply wait outside the shop for someone to buy it and then delicately pluck the wrapped parcel from their bag as they sank to the ground.

The lamps barely cut into the dark and the puddles were icing over. He had waited in this damp spot for much longer than politeness dictated, so he fixed a smile onto his face, ran his fingers through his hair, and sauntered towards _Amer-I-Can Wands. _He really respected these plucky wand shops that were trying to fill the niche left by the missing Ollivander's. They carried on despite the fact that British wizards weren't suited to foreign wands in the slightest.

He pressed his face up against the glass window, breathing against it like a little boy. Inside, a pretty blonde witch was sitting at a desk. She looked nervous; Weasley had already told her what to do, he imagined.

The bell jingled as he opened the door and stepped inside. A song that he didn't recognise was playing on the tinny wireless. The floors and walls were beige, and every surface, carpet, and display had been scrubbed, polished, and shined. There were elegant displays of wand holsters and polishing kits, but there wasn't a wand in sight.

He sat in the chair opposite the desk. "I'm Lester, what's your name?" he asked.

The witch bit her pink bottom lip and looked deeply into his innocent face. "Tara…" she murmured.

American accent, too. She was probably the owner's daughter.

He gave her his most charming look, and the girl smiled. He wondered whether she realised she'd done it.

"What a lovely name," he said.

He leant in, as if to take her in to his confidence. "I was hoping you could help me…" he said in a low, sexy voice. The girl turned pink. "I'm looking for a tall, red-haired man. He's looking for a replacement for this-"

He held up two pieces of Ron Weasley's snapped wand.

"Why are you looking for him?" the girl asked.

_Idiot!_

Prentice flicked his wand out. He was on his feet, towering above the witch, and suddenly, he didn't seem friendly at all.

If she'd just told him, then everything would have been lovely. _Surely_ Weasley had mentioned how dangerous Prentice was?

He let his real voice- sharp and emotionless- appear for just a second. "Just tell me," he hissed.

Tara swallowed against the wand, and her shining eyes flicked to her right, just for a second.

He treated her to another smile and pulled the wand away.

"Thank you," he said. He sat down, adjusted his coat, and tucked the wand away. "I'm not usually like this," he apologised.

The girl breathed out shakily. He was boyish and flirtatious once more. A few minutes of chit-chat later, and she'd practically forgotten about his little threat.

"Could you do me one more favour?" he asked huskily.

The girl nodded. To her credit, she looked slightly wary.

"Could you shut your eyes?"

Her eyes darted to his sleeve, but he tilted his head to the left, still smiling and friendly, and her face relaxed.

"Thank you," he said smoothly. "_Avada Kedavra."_

He was pleased to note that she wasn't even shocked; she hadn't had time to realise what he'd done. She toppled smoothly off of her chair and onto the carpet. He was pleased with that. A nice, _polite_, death.

"You can come out now, Ron," he said.

Prentice waited for a few moments. He stepped over the girl and took the time to take a few Galleons out of the desk drawer. By the time he had browsed through the paperwork and examined a picture of Tara and her sweetheart in a heart shaped frame on the desk, Ron still hadn't appeared.

How _rude_.

He turned to where the Assistant had so briefly indicated. The shop boasted a firing range for wizards to practice spells on. It was essentially a long metal cage with three dummies lined up at the end.

The question was: which of them was dummy number four hiding behind?

"Now really, I can't hang about here all night," he insisted.

There was no answer.

Prentice did not find pleasure in hunting people down and killing them. Sometimes it was necessary, of course, but he would have much preferred for him and Ron to sit down, have a coffee, and to casually hex the man as he was reaching for another biscuit. No adrenalin, no running, and no hard feelings.

But these Ministry people seemed determined to do it their own way.

"I needed a little target practice anyway," he said, just loud enough for it to carry down to Ron.

He swished his wrist. The dummy on the left disintegrated in a ball of roaring blue flames. Prentice watched the fire for a while, but no charred body of Ron Weasley appeared.

"Good show!" he said, clapping. "Don't you agree, Ron?"

Before Ron could answer, Prentice's wand shot out again. The dummy on the right ripped itself apart. Stuffing and limbs flew into the air, but no bloody limbs belonging to Ron Weasley splattered onto the carpet.

Prentice spoke to the third (and fourth) dummy now.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, 'Harry won't let me die. He'll be here any second…' But Harry didn't turn up for work this morning, did he?"

There was no answer. Really, Ron had no one to blame but himself.

Prentice picked his favourite hex, the one he'd been secretly hoping to use on Ron.

"One…" he began, "…two…"

A hand shot out from behind the dummy. It was holding a strange black object.

"_Ice_!" Ron yelled.

Prentice frowned. There was a pause as Ron readjusted his approach.

"Uh…_Chill_! I mean…_Freeze_!"

Prentice was amused. He loved last ditch plans. They never worked- that's why they were so much fun.

Ron stepped out slowly, pointing the strange object at him. "This is a gun. It's a Muggle weapon. It can shoot a bit of metal at your forehead faster that you can say _Stupefy_."

Prentice listened attentively. "Really? Muggles _are _interesting aren't they?" he smiled.

"Put your wand down," Ron ordered. He crept slowly out from the behind the middle dummy.

"I don't think I will, actually," said Prentice. He twirled his wand in his hands and absently practiced his best duelling swishes and flicks.

Ron was clearly annoyed; you could tell by the ears. "Okay. On three-" he sneered.

"I hear that you are quite famous among Hit-Wizards," said Prentice conversationally. He was quite unconcerned by Ron's weapon- he was _far_ more interested in Ron's shaking hands.

"Really?" said Ron disinterestedly.

"Oh yes," said Prentice. "The Aurors sent you two out to catch me because they want me alive. They say you never hurt a criminal."

"Yeah, we're geniuses," said Ron, still holding the gun up.

Prentice grinned. "So I don't think you'd use that thing on me. Not really."

Ron's blank expression didn't change. Prentice didn't find that worrying. The first thing Hit-Wizards learned was to bluff, because nine times out of ten, they didn't have a hope.

Then, Ron glanced to the gun, just for a second. Prentice was quick. His wand pressed into Ron's throat and he snatched the gun out of Ron's hand.

Ron's face didn't change again, but Prentice saw him swallow against the wand.

He held up the gun and shook it with some amusement. No metal pinged out.

Prentice lifted the gun up to Ron's forehead. His finger tucked itself around the trigger. Ron's eyes didn't leave his.

He found himself quite excited. He'd never killed anyone the Muggle way before.

"Tell me," he asked. "How many people have I killed again?"

"Four wizards, three witches, and a Muggle," rasped Ron.

"_Eight_?" said Prentice, raising his eyebrows in surprise. "My word, time flies eh?" He winked at Ron. "Well…I'll make that nine now."

He pulled the trigger.

ooo

The windmill was so far out in the country that Muggle lights didn't even glow on the horizon. A walker would have to squint to see the sails in the blackness, and the lumps and pot-holes of the frozen meadow were indistinguishable from the shivering flowerbeds and herb gardens.

From the door of the windmill, any walker was invisible in the night. This was worrying Luna. She was waiting on a guest who had yet to arrive and, for all she knew, could still be stumbling about in the vegetable patch.

Still, the garden was littered with metal watering cans and wind-chimes; he was bound to trip over something noisy sooner or later.

Besides, it was nicer to think he was lost out there than to discover that he wasn't. That he hadn't turned up at all.

She went back inside, closed the white farm door, and went to check _The Quibbler_ presses.

ooo

Harry wasn't himself any more.

He was the controller. The Queen Bee. The carrier.

The damp slimy floor he was laying on didn't bother him. The padlocked door didn't matter. After all, enough power was pouring through him to rip the building apart if it needed to.

It was currently seizing anything of use inside its host's body. Limbs and organs were worthless, but the memories were something special. The memories would be extremely useful.

ooo

Water splashed into Ron's face. Prentice was looking at the gun with puzzlement that Ron shared.

Unlike Prentice, he wasn't easily distracted.

The punch sent Prentice flying onto his back, and Ron grappled for the man's wand.

Prentice scrambled to his feet and stepped away, holding his hands out in a peace-making gesture.

"Aw, come on! Hexing a man with his own wand? That's simply…rude," he said.

Getting Prentice talking was a mistake. Prentice could talk his way out of anything. "_Stupefy_," snapped Ron, trying to remedy the situation.

The man was quick. He ducked. The spell hit a tower of wand polishing kits which scattered everywhere, causing black polish to ooze into the cream carpet.

He lunged for Ron's middle, and Ron fell onto his back. Prentice didn't know how to fight like a Muggle, but he was a damn quick learner.

They struggled. Ron kneed him and the bastard was forced to curl into a ball.

Ron held the wand out and focused on the familiar arresting spell; it would force Prentice to Apparate directly into a Ministry holding cell.

Nothing happened.

What the hell was wrong? He shook the wand.

Prentice scrambled up and smoothed his clothes. "You know Aurors gave you this case?" he said chirpily. "If I know my Ministry protocol, Hit-Wizards aren't allowed to formally arrest criminals wanted by Aurors. So that little spell you're trying won't work, well, it looks like they forgot to switch your jurisdiction over, doesn't it?"

He straightened his stolen coat and winked at Ron. "I'd better be off anyway, got a date. I do hate to be behind schedule. I'll collect the wand later."

And with that, the bastard sauntered out of the shop, leaving Ron lying on the floor and out of breath.

ooo

Ron was lying down again, this time on his sofa. Every limb hurt. His throat felt like a stoat had died inside of it. He had a bit of popped balloon stuck in his hair.

He was, as far as he could tell, in his living room. Streamers drooped from the ceiling, cake had been ground into the carpet, and the sofa had been stained even _before_ the party.

"_Knock knock_!"

His dad's chirpy and totally un-hung-over voice bounced out of the fireplace. Ron attempted to lift his head.

"Wazzat?"

His dad's face was sitting in the hearth, grinning up at him. "Some party last night, wasn't it, Ron?" he beamed.

Ron groaned.

"Not feeling too chipper myself this morning either…" said his dad, against all obvious evidence.

"Mm," he managed.

"I bet you weren't expecting us to throw you a surprise birthday party, eh?" he added, chortling into the grate.

"Nah. There's nothing like running for your life from a dangerous criminal, g'tting home, and having f'fty people leap out yelling '_surprise_!'," he croaked.

His dad was deaf to this facetiousness.

"I forgot to ask, Ron- did you get the gun I sent you? I thought it might help you at work…"

"Very handy," said Ron sarcastically. He made an attempt to sit up and put his hand into a patch of spilt dip.

His dad frowned into the coals. "Personally, I couldn't see what was so dangerous about filling it with water. I'd put some of Mrs. Scowers Mess Remover in as an extra precaution if I were you. I remember your mother threw a bottle at me once and it certainly stung...what was I Flooing about again? Oh yes, you said you'd broken your wand?"

Ron fumbled for Prentice's wand, still in his pocket. It was sleek and vicious looking.

"This one will do," he said, half to himself. He held up the wand show his dad.

His dad looked hurt. "Are you sure? That one doesn't look too safe- I was going to lend you my old one…"

Ron forced himself to wake up properly.

"Yeah," he said. He smiled a little at the thought. "I rather like the idea of Prentice never getting it back.

The doorbell rung, which caused Ron's head to do so as well. It also caused Mr. Weasley to begin squeezing as much conversation in as possible – did Ron know about Fleur's dinner party next week, his mum wanted to know whether he'd darned those socks, what had he done with that battery his dad had leant him-

Ron yawned. "Yeah, I've got to answer the door, yeah, bye."

To his relief, his dad disappeared, and Ron stumbled out of the sitting room and into the hall. He managed to open it on the third go, and winced as the cold air and bright wintry sunshine hit him.

"Hello, Ronald."

There was a voice he wouldn't forget in a hurry. Luna Lovegood was standing in his doorway. She was conscientiously dressed in Muggle clothes, although he was sure that her straw hat, summer dress, and sandals must have attracted as many stares on this cold March morning than any robes could have managed.

"Loon– Luna?"

She held a bag out towards him. It had glitter on it and a dancing snowman.

"Happy belated Birthday," she said in her dreamy voice.

"Uh…thanks," he managed, rather at a loss as to how she knew his address, how she'd known about his birthday, and why she'd bought him a gift. She was staring at him again, and although he had always quite liked her, he wasn't up to dealing with weirdness at this time of day. "Um, do want to come inside?" he managed.

Luna beamed at him as though no one had invited her inside before.

He turned around and staggered through to the kitchen. She followed him in, and he had to turn back when he realised that she hadn't shut the door after herself.

His kitchen had been warm, elegant, and spacious when he had bought it. Years of bachelor living had reduced it somewhat. The sink was piled high with dishes, and the sides were sticky from the Fireball cocktails Charlie had been making last night.

He tapped the kettle with his wand and winced as he put the two cups down loudly on the tacky surface.

Luna sat daintily on the edge of a chair that he was uncomfortably aware he'd never actually cleaned…

"How did you know about my birthday?" he asked, hoping she hadn't touched it with her hands.

If she'd noticed anything off about the chair, she wasn't giving it any attention. She was peering at his Chudley Cannons salt n' pepper shakers.

"Harry told me," she said.

Ron's head swam as he stepped forward eagerly. "You've seen him?"

Luna shook her head. She didn't look up as he put the cup down in front of her.

"That's why I brought you your presents today," she said, partly to the pepper pot. "Harry invited me to your party, but he never arrived."

Ron sighed and ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the balloon and making himself uncomfortably aware that he hadn't got a shirt on and that he needed a shave.

"Harry invited you to my party? He never told me!"

Luna looked up as though he'd said something very foolish. "Well, it _was_ a surprise party."

"I didn't even know he was in contact with you," explained Ron. As much as Ron could understand Harry wanting to get out of a date with Loony Lovegood, Harry hadn't been at the party either. Ron hadn't seen him in nearly two days.

Prentice had seemed to know about it. But then Prentice knew what Ron liked for lunch and what his favourite robes looked like. Still, the voice had been just a little bit _too _taunting…

Luna shrugged. "I interviewed Harry last year for a ten year anniversary of our first interview. After that, he started visiting me more often. Sometimes, he comes over in the middle of the night, and we talk."

She looked distant for a second. More so than usual.

The information made Ron uncomfortable. Harry had never mentioned Luna, not even in passing. Now, she was sitting here in his kitchen talking as though she were Harry's _girlfriend_. Okay, so Ginny lived in Romania, learning the dragon trade from Charlie. The time when she'd been Harry's girlfriend was long gone, as distant as the childish hopes he'd had about Hermione and himself.

But _Luna_? She was the worst choice anyone could make when it came to dating. Hadn't that one party been _enough_?

He sighed again. Weird as she was, maybe she knew something.

"I think Harry's missing."

To his surprise though, Luna nodded sagely. "That makes perfect sense."

"Pardon?" said Ron, trying to catch up to a train of thought he didn't think he'd have followed in a normal state of mind.

"Powerful witches and wizards are disappearing," Luna explained breathlessly, "and when they are returned days later, their whole personality has changed! One wizard thought Muggles were scum, and now he's writing his first book about how clever they really are!"

She didn't have a clue, then. Just another weirdo conspiracy.

"And you have proof of this, do you?" he asked sceptically. He leant against the sink, one arm across his stomach, the other holding his mug.

Luna reached up, took her straw hat off, and pulled a piece of parchment and a notebook out from underneath it. She flipped it open and scanned it carefully before she spoke.

"Two hundred years ago, the Earl of Shrewsbury, Walter Morton was the richest wizard in England. He and his wife were returning to Morton Towers from a party, and as soon as their winged horses had touched their carriage down on the forest track up to the house, a crone appeared begging for money. Morton refused her and the crone cursed them so that -"

Not _this_.

Ron shut his eyes and finished, "- every time a branch fell from the oak in the centre of Oak Morton town, a member of the Earl's family would die. He became obsessed with ending the curse and people deserted Oak Morton because they were so scared.It's a legend_. Everyone_ knows about it. It's the reason Oak Morton isn't the largest wizarding town anymore."

Luna opened her mouth to continue, but he cut across.

"Look, _I know_ who took Harry. It's just a matter of hunting him down and feeding him Bubotuber Pus until he tells me what he's done to my friend."

"Who do you suspect?" asked Luna.

Ron hesitated in telling her. The last thing he needed was Luna tracking a vicious murderer down for an interview. But her eyes fixed upon his, and for a second, she looked so desperate to know that he relented.

To buy himself some time to distract her, he turned and jabbed the washing up in the sink with his wand. A cup bounced off onto the tiles. He shook Prentice's wand. It was too powerful really, but he'd have to get used to it.

When the scrubbing brush was sloshing away, he turned back. Luna was still staring questioningly at him.

"Lester Prentice," he said finally.

Luna looked up at him seriously. "You believe he's tied up in this Oak Morton conspiracy too?"

"What? No!" said Ron, waving his mug impatiently. He found himself adding, "What conspiracy?"

Luna's face was alight as only a really insane theory could make it. "I believe that the last of the Earl's family is obsessed with removing the curse from the tree too, and they are kidnapping the greatest of our wizards in order to do it. If they can't help, they are returned with parts of their memory missing. Just like the thirty witches and wizards I've interviewed. I'm thinking of writing a book about it."

If his pounding head wasn't feeling so bad, he would have banged it against the table. "_Look_. This isn't about conspiracies. Harry is in huge danger! Prentice kills people as casually as he changes his underwear. Harry won't come back with bits of his memories missing- he'll come back with bits of his _head_ missing."

Luna frowned and Ron admitted that maybe she was more worried about Harry than he thought. She looked at him beseechingly. "Why don't we go to Harry's house and look for clues? If your theory's right, I'll help you. And if mine is right, you'll help me."

Ron groaned. "It's not safe for you-"

"I was in the DA too," said Luna simply. Ron had to allow her that.

She stood up. Part of her dress had to be tugged out of a sticky patch of Golden Syrup. She didn't comment, just turned to pick up her notebook and hat. The backs of her bare knees were sticky too.

He felt a little bit guilty about letting her into the kitchen. He supposed he at least owed her one lead.

"Fine," he said gruffly, "but any trouble and you're going straight home."

ooo

Thank you for taking the time to read this. There's another three chapters of 'episode one' to come.

If you have any opinion about this fic at all I would love to hear about it.


	2. Pilot 2 of 3

**Title**: Hex

**Author**: Emmylou

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter is the property of J K Rowling. This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun story. The legend of the chained oak on which parts of this story are based belongs to Alton Towers, and by extension the Madame Tussauds group.

**Ships**: Ron/Hermione, Harry/Luna, Ron/Luna friendship. Those are the eventual pairings- anything might happen in between.

**A/N**: Thanks (again) to my beta and to the lovely people who reviewed.

ooo

Harry's house was Muggle in appearance. Inside, it didn't look too out of place either– Harry knew how Muggle things worked and so had a real television and stereo, which made his dad's visits to Harry's place even more common than to his own

It was in the outskirts of London- a simple terraced house in a nice but not perfect area. His front garden was a mess of weeds, and his gate was unpainted, but whenever anyone pointed it out, he grinned as though having a messy front garden was some sort of treat.

The lights were on in the house despite the daylight.

He tapped the doorbell with his wand while peering through the small window next to the door. Recognising the magical presence, the Muggle charms faded. The picture on the glass changed to reveal warm lamplight and the framed images were free to move once more.

"Harry mate? Are you in there?" Ron called through the letterbox.

There was no answer. Luna gave him a worried glance, but put her hand on his arm before his could use his wand to unlock the door. She simply lifted her bare arms up to her throat and removed a chain. A key dangled in front of him.

He chose not to say anything and let her open the door.

Harry had given her a key? That wasn't something you did for just anyone. How much had Luna meant to him that he had never even mentioned her to Ron? What had been so dark in his life that he turned up at Luna's house in the night, but acted as though everything was fine when he was hanging out with Ron?

Hedwig and Harry's second owl, Edwina, dozed on their perch high above the stairs. Hedwig woke, gave them a bleary 'where have you been?' hoot and ruffled her feathers.

They moved around downstairs, finding the lights on in the sitting room. The television was on too, but no sound emanated from it as a suited man in it spoke seriously into the room.

Luna left to go look upstairs- somewhere she was no doubt familiar with, thought Ron moodily- while he went into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Harry's trainers. The lamps were on in there too, and a full mug of cold tea was sitting on the counter.

He waited for Luna to come back down and thought, not for the first time, how much he wished Hermione was here.

He remembered finding the house he lived in, how he'd decorated it and brought ornaments and bookshelves so that maybe they might live in it together one day. Then she'd received some sort of job offer and simply disappeared. He'd never even gotten to give her one measly kiss.

She sent them one letter a month and he relied on writing answering letters back in which he poured his heart out, and to which she never replied.

Luna came back in to the room, informing him that Harry's robes were folded on his bed as though he were about to get dressed when he disappeared.

"But nobody seems to have done any spells to force their way in," she said thoughtfully. She had bent down to check the back door.

Ron had been almost longing to find Harry simply being menaced by the Monster Book of Monsters and be standing on a chair awaiting rescue. Something simple and easy. Now they had to track down Prentice and maybe they'd find out that Prentice hadn't messed about and had simply dealt with Harry straight away…

He fought back nausea. To distract himself he snapped at Luna; "I'm the Hit-Wizard here. I'll say who has or hasn't done spells."

He gave the door a thorough check. "No. They haven't."

They made another half-hearted attempt to search the place. The garden was frosty and empty, the attic was unused, and the spare bedroom was dusty. Curiously, the cupboard under the stairs was locked. When it was opened, it proved to hold no more than a few Muggle items that Harry must have once owned.

He looked to Luna for explanation of that, but she looked as non-plussed as him.

A letter Luna found on the mantle-piece proved of more interest:

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_This letter is to inform you that the Ministry of Magic is planning to reopen Azkaban Prison after rebuilding and alterations are made. As such we wish to offer you the role of Prison Warden to ensure that prisoners are safely locked away and reasonably looked after. You will have full control of the staff, the layout of the prison, and its systems and controls, subject to confirmation by the Ministry. _

_Please reply to this letter at your convenience,_

_Doris Aiken_

_Prisoner Relocation Team _

Ron had read and re-read the letter. He'd known that Harry was unhappy with his life. They'd wanted to give up hero-ing and excitement after school.

But Ron had always thought that they were in it together, doing good even if their lives weren't joyous.

Now it turned out Harry had been offered the sort of job he would have loved – a chance to make Azkaban a better place. He'd been hiding Luna from Ron. How long would it have been before Ron was relying on Harry's one letter a month too?

Luna had an explanation for this, however. "This is clearly the trap the Mortons used to draw him in! Harry went to them offering to take the job, and they kidnapped him," she said breathlessly.

Ron wished this was true, but scoffed outwardly.

"Well, it doesn't seem to have anything to do with this Lester Prentice person, does it?" Luna looked as hot-headed as she ever managed to be when someone dismissed her theories.

He scowled. "He was hardly going to leave a little "I did it!" note and a chocolate on Harry's pillow, was he?"

He stalked out to the garden again. A leathery gnome sprinted across the dry mud. Ron snatched it and flung it over the fence.

There was a shout of anger and one of Harry's Muggle neighbours shook a fist and held up a cracked pottery gnome angrily.

"Probably an Urban Gnome," said Luna calmly as she peeked around the kitchen door. "They like to turn into those pottery men whenever Muggles spot them."

Ron didn't care whether this was true or not. He simply stomped back inside.

They moved through the house tidying up. Luna switched off the television and rinsed out the mug, while Ron turned off the lights and sent Hedwig and Edwina to his parents' house until Harry could be located.

When the house was locked up again they stood on the step outside for a moment. Ron felt Luna breathe out with a _whoosh_.

"The Morton's are throwing a ball tonight," she said finally. "I'm planning to use the distraction to look around the research chamber. You should come too."

Ron gave her an impatient look. "I have other things to do that improve my social life!"

"You promised to help me," said Luna simply. She blinked as she said it.

Ron sunk into a sitting position on the step and rubbed his aching eyes. "Only if turned out you were right."

Luna sat down next to him too. She looked very frail in the cold sunshine. "Well, you've not got any proof that I'm wrong." Her eyes were searching his face again. "I believe Harry was taken by these people."

The last thing Ron wanted to do was go to another party. He wanted to go home and go over the information on Lester Prentice. Or at least go home and get drunk on the dregs of champagne left from the night before.

"I'll still help you track down Lester Prentice if you like," said Luna generously. "Do you have any idea where he is?"

Ron stumbled at the change of track and snorted. "Anywhere he can show off. He likes money, finery, and all the nice things he can kill for."

Luna smiled and nudged him with her elbow. "Then doesn't a Masquerade Ball sound like just his sort of thing?"

ooo

Luna had offered to lend Ron a mask since he didn't have anything suitable (unless you counted his vampire bat Halloween one, which he didn't). She had presented him a hideous lime green one with silver teardrops.

"I thought you'd like it," she said happily as he took is speechlessly.

He had to admit he much preferred his to the one she had picked for herself. She may have been on a secret mission, but she had not dressed for stealth. She was wearing a huge skirted shiny orange monstrosity with a shocking pink mask and a large turquoise feather stuck in her hair. No wonder Harry kept his secret about her quiet, he thought snidely.

They arrived at the Morton Towers' Apparition Zone and joined a stream of couples walking up to the main house.

The air was bitter, and Ron was sure he had most of the gravel path in his shoes. It was hardly a dream start to the night, and it didn't help that Luna was chattering away next to him as though they were best friends.

He focused on the faint glow of lights ahead, but it was impossible to drone out Luna's narration. There was a lake to their left and a forest to their right. They had just passed the track which led to the remains of Oak Morton. He didn't want to know these things. He wanted to find Prentice, find Harry, and go home.

They were both panting and out of breath by the time they reached the top of the hill and Ron saw the house for the first time.

His first thought was that it was Hogwarts. There were turrets, towers, and big arched doors, all similar in style to the school. In other places, the castle looked churchlike, and in others, the dark stone and brickwork reminded him of churches and houses and shops, all built into one place. It sat on the rocky hills rolling out around them, and as they moved onto the gravel path towards the giant front door Ron saw the sweeping, graceful lake Luna had been talking about.

"This is Morton Towers?" he breathed.

"Yes," said Luna with a patient look. "I know it rather well now. After we've had a chance to look around the research room, I'd like to walk into the remains of the town and have a look around there. It'll be quite deserted."

Ron sighed and remembered why he was here. He would have to try and prevent Luna from getting into too much trouble as well. "If there is a big conspiracy don't you think some people are going to be around to stop you doing all this?"

"I never said it was going to be easy," said Luna with an infuriating smile.

Ron tried to pull himself together and started thinking of his own plans. "What we have to do first is look around the ballroom. I'm going to rip every mask off every party-goer if I have to."

Luna looked a little put-out at this, but shrugged. "Well, let's not be too long."

The steps were lit by giant lanterns, and they slipped past the slow moving couples in front into the giant entrance room. The floor and walls were made from giant slabs of stone which arched upwards towards an intricately painted ceiling, covered in artistically naked women, who waved coquettishly at the guests looking upwards. Ron felt his ears redden and one of them pointed and giggled.

There was a sudden groan and Ron jumped. The ceiling seemed to be shaking. The nude- or rather_, artistic_ – women above them sighed and gripped on to the few stable looking things around them. It went on for a few seconds and then the groan faded.

"It does that every couple of hours," said Luna. "It's a fault in the design according to the staff. I suggested they sweep the place for Lesser Crested Jiggs, but they seemed quite determined that it was the building to blame."

For a moment she looked distant, but her dreamy smile returned quickly and she gestured towards the ballroom. Ron, not a champion Hit-Wizard for nothing, filed that question away for later use.

Ron followed her, amazed by the sheer amount of people. There were three hundred in the ballroom alone. All of them had masks and stood in tight groups, talking, or they danced in tighter circles in the space left.

Men and women in Honeydukes uniforms went around pouring glistening ladles of melted chocolate into metallic cups, while fine wine was poured into every unfilled glass.

He stopped paying attention to the finery fairly quickly and concentrated on business. He scanned the ballroom for any suspicious groups. Prentice wouldn't be hiding. He'd be showing off. He'd be joining conversations, telling jokes…

"-So, after a week the parrot finally says- 'Okay, I give up. What'd you do with the boat?'!"

Predictable bastard.

Luna went off to get them drinks in order to 'blend in' but Ron was barely paying her attention.

Prentice was surrounded by a small group, his arm was thrown around an uncomfortable looking girl, and he was roaring with laughter at his own joke. The braying laugh of the other man in the group was more of a problem. The man's red hair, tall frame, and the horn-rimmed glasses balanced over his mask gave it away instantly. The last thing Ron needed was Percy and Penelope getting in the way of his arrest.

Ron stuck his chest out and marched over with exaggerated confidence.

"Prentice."

Prentice turned, and Ron had to give him his due, he barely flinched before his 'best friend' persona returned.

"Ron Weasley! What a surprise. I'd introduce you, but you already know Percy and Penelope, and I'm sure you couldn't forget_ this_ lovely lady."

He used his body weight the turn to woman he was holding in Ron's direction. Her curls, pale face, and the brown eyes beyond the mask gave it away instantly.

Ron's stomach churned.

Hermione's voice seemed very small in the noisy room. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

Prentice pressed his temple to Hermione's, who was trying to squirm away. "I do hope you'll convince her to stay at the party – she seems determined to get back to her work!"

Penelope, always ready with a useless statement, patted Hermione's arm. "Oh, do stay Hermione."

"Let go of her, Prentice," said Ron warningly.

Percy's expression though, was hard. "Ron? What are you doing here?"

This was the last thing he needed. He had no choice but to be polite for the moment. "Hullo, Percy."

Percy waved his glass airily. "I heard mum and dad were throwing you a birthday party."

"I notice you didn't bother to come," said Ron coldly.

The glass was waved again. "Well, Penny and I had already planned to go to the theatre- got the tickets and everything. It seemed such a shame to pass up such a special night to come to your house and watch Auntie Nellie fall over during the_ conga_. She does make such a fool of herself at times."

"Actually I think she's the life of the party," lied Ron.

Percy chortled patronisingly. "Really Ron, there's no need to be ridiculous. I sent you a present, didn't I?"

Ron's eyes flickered to Prentice in case he made a run for it, but forced himself to carry on the conversation. "Yes. A bow tie, wasn't it?"

Percy drew himself up. "Not just_ any_ bow tie; it's a very fine, silk bow tie whichchanges to match any colour of robes and twirls around most amusingly whenever your boss tells a joke or a particularly interesting anecdote. A must have for the up-and-coming wizard!"

"The same bow tie, in fact, that you have given me every birthday and Christmas for the last nine years." Ron was trying not to let himself get distracted, but he was finding it hard in the face of things.

Prentice patted Percy's shoulder sympathetically. "Not very grateful, is he?"

Ron fumed. Prentice wasn't even trying to get away. He was standing there, enjoying the drama! They were all pressed up against one another: hexing Prentice was too risky.

"Well really, Ron, you could be up and coming if you would only make the effort," lectured Percy. "I mean look at me and look at you. I'm attending a very fine masquerade party with a beautiful wife, a very satisfying job, and a rather comfortable house to call my own. While you are unmarried, run around after criminals, and are living in a house you dislike and on which's floor you let Auntie Nellie collapse on twice or so many times a year."

"On the other hand, Mum and Dad don't hate me," snapped Ron.

Percy drew back as though he had been slapped.

"Now _really_, I won't have you talking to my friends like that," said Prentice with a slick, offended tone.

"You aren't anybody's friend," Ron snarled.

Prentice leant to speak into Hermione's ear. "He is a joker, isn't he? He's a little sore because we exchanged sharp words the last time we saw each other. You'd think I'd done something terrible!"

"Madam Granger, I got you yer drink."

A tall stringy man, with thinning sandy hair and a shiny forehead, joined the group holding a glass of wine reverently. He was in his forties and had a Manchurian accent so thick you could have bounced a brick off of it.

Hermione took the glass with a weak smile. "Um, thank you, Sidney."

The man remained standing where he was and so she was forced to introduce him to the others.

"Gentlemen, Penelope, this is Sidney Kripps. He's the Earl's manservant and my colleague."

The man's chest swelled so much that her quick introduction of the rest must have been echoing around inside of him.

After a few moments of silence, the man seemed to realise that he had not planned any further than this and seemed to deflate.

"Ah well…" he said, "I better go, duty calls." He shuffled off with a last longing look at Hermione.

Ron stomped down the twinge of jealousy and returned to his task of trying to simultaneously face down Percy and Prentice.

Thankfully he was spared the first when Percy gave a start as he noticed a fat witch in blue silk. "Excuse me, there's Madam Lorenz, I must circulate."

He steered Penelope away, leaving just Ron, Prentice, and Hermione.

"You _have_ done something terrible," said Ron. "You've killed four witches, three wizards, and a Muggle who had a coat you liked. You also attempted to kill one Hit-Wizard, namely me."

"What?" Hermione's head snapped around to Prentice, and she tried to twist free of his grip, but he moved quickly and gripped Hermione's throat. She gagged and struggled, but was forced still when he produced a black wand, even slicker and crueller than the one Ron held in his hand.

"It_ is_ a nice coat isn't it?" said Prentice. "And I like this new wand. American ones tend to have a bit more…_oomph_."

The threat was lessened somewhat by Luna returning and accidentally splashing Hermione's brown, satin robes with red wine as she elbowed her way forwards. "Have you found-" she noticed Prentice, "-oh you have. Which one of us is right, then?"

Ron was hoping Prentice would be distracted enough to loosen his grip, or for Hermione to at least kick him a bit, but Prentice's grip didn't change, and Hermione was too distracted to attempt escape.

"_Luna_? What are you doing here?" she asked.

Prentice's whole expression calmed. Despite the fact that he was holding a hostage while about to be arrested, he looked exactly as though they'd been introduced over cocktails and nibbles. "Luna? A charming name for a charming creature! You can call me Lester. I'd kiss your hand, but I'm a little busy."

Luna's expression was as stony as Ron had ever seen it.

"Did you kill Harry?"

Hermione's eyes widened behind her gold mask, and her voice was hoarse when she spoke, "Harry's dead?"

"We don't know," said Luna softly.

"Why are_ you_ here, Luna?" she asked.

Hermione's expression was confused and hurt, as though she was wondering why an old school friend was involved and she hadn't been notified. Maybe she should have bothered to write more than once a month, Ron thought icily.

He held Prentice's old wand out warningly, and his eyes didn't leave the man as he spoke. "She came to see me because Harry stood her up last night. He's missing, and she thinks the Morton curse has something to do with it. I think she's here to spy, too."

Prentice chuckled and smiled. "Charming, charming. Well…I do so hate to leave a good party, but I really think that I'd better take my leave. Hermione here should come with me, just in case anyone tries to follow."

Ron was about to use the first hex that came to mind, but there was a sudden distraction. A thundering roar came from the direction of the entrance, and there were screams as people started to run. The small group was in the middle of the room and was quickly swept up, legs working on automatic.

Hermione managed to struggle free from Prentice's arms, and Ron practically swam after him as the man dived towards the door at the other end of the room.

"The ceiling in the entrance! It's collapsed!" yelled one party-goer.

There was an animal roar from the direction of the hall. It didn't sound like a collapsed ceiling.

"_Troll_!" someone else shouted.

Ron tried to snatch Prentice's coat, but bellowed: "Which?" to anyone who might be listening.

"_Both_!" someone else shrieked.

Everyone was trying to push out through the doors at the other end of the ballroom. Luna was some way in front, her feather bobbing above the jostling heads. He felt someone shove past him and realised it was Hermione. Prentice was just a little was to his right…

"I'm going to look around the research room!" Luna shouted, trying to struggle ahead through the door and veer to the left.

"NO!" yelled Hermione. "Get outside!"

Ron felt her struggles increase as she pushed forward.

The air was hot and people were yelling and disorientated. Some witches and wizards were Apparating away with deafening cracks, but most were just running in panic as a menacing troll lumbered after them.

Not an ounce of logic, Ron remembered vaguely.

Hermione was chasing after Luna; Prentice managed to turn his head around in the crowd and give Ron a viscous grin before following after the two girls.

He had no choice but to follow Prentice, moving further into the roasting house and away from the cool exit. The troll was close- the floorboards were jilting under Ron's feet as the creature stamped after them. People were pushing after Ron, not caring where he was going, so long as it took them away from the threat.

Luna scrambled down some dank steps near the kitchens and along an unlit stone corridor. Hermione was panting but still sprinting after her, and Prentice was following them at an easy jog. He even had time to turn and wave to Ron before casually going down the steps. Ron sped up and practically leapt down after him.

He sprinted along the smooth flags and slammed his hands into the iron door before Prentice managed to swing it shut. The fleeing people flooded in behind him and jostled to shut and charm the door before the troll smashed its way through.

Ron was disorientated in this dark, new area, and he spun around, searching for Prentice's green coat.

Prentice seemed to have disappeared.

He wondered if Prentice had managed to get out before the door shut, and he moved towards it, but a thump and a creak of iron from outside made him realise that there was most definitely a troll on the other side.

He looked over to Hermione who had stumbled over to where Sidney was sweeping the floor.

"Miss?"

"Sidney, emergency!" panted Hermione.

She began speaking to him in a low tone. Her crossed arms and worried glances around the room made this a conversation Ron wanted to eavesdrop on, but he didn't think he stood a chance.

People were starting to panic. There were about fifty people inside and apart from the two doors (the heavy closed iron one currently being battered by the troll and an open cupboard), there were no exits or windows. There was not even a fireplace to Floo from. Several witches and wizards had recovered enough to try and Apparate away, and had found, to their horror, that it was as impossible as Apparition from Hogwarts.

The lack of escape aside, though, the room was rather interesting. The large, ark-shaped ceiling and wooden, pew-like seats that lined the walls gave the room a religious air and a church-like look. The damaged trinkets and machines rested randomly on those seats, while the doors were at either end of the inward facing pew seats.

The most interesting item in the room, however, was something else entirely and had already gained a lot attention. It was an old oak tree, laid reverentially on its side in the centre of the aisle between the pews. The leaves were gone, leaving only bare, wintry branches. The tree itself had not been chopped down, but carefully removed from the earth, with the roots still attached. These splayed out onto the tiled floor.

To add to Ron's curiosity, and to that of others in the room, a red cord surrounded the tree as though it were a sort of exhibit in a museum. Luna was examining it. After a final look around for Prentice, Ron went over to her.

"Have you seen Prentice?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. He was about to clarify that he'd meant in the last minute, but she spoke again in that sudden way of hers.

"I stunned him as we came in. It seemed the safest option until we figured out who was right about Harry." She pointed to a pair of polished shoes sticking out from behind the first row of pews.

Ron stared at them, shocked. "Uh…thanks. Is-is this actually the cursed tree, then?

Luna had lost interest in him- she was staring at Hermione, who was talking to the thin man again.

"Hmm? Yes."

Ron opened his mouth to ask another question but she spoke again. "Have you seen much of Hermione lately?"

He couldn't stop the un-amused laugh. "Hah! No. Didn't Harry tell you? She disappeared." He ran a hand through his slightly-too-long hair. "We each get a letter a month and that's it. She replies, but she never says much about what she's doing."

Luna raised a pale eyebrow. "Maybe my theory is right, about witches and wizards being kidnapped. Only maybe Hermione_ was_ of some use to them."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione? Working on a conspiracy? Don't be daft. You can't go around believing everything your dad dreams up."

Luna's head snapped around. "I don't just repeat everything he says blindly," she said in an affronted tone. "I have my own mind. I am an _investigative_ reporter-"

An _insane _one, Ron was about to snap. He didn't though, partly because of the righteous expression on her face, and partly because Hermione was bearing down upon them, looking extremely harassed.

"Where's Prentice?" she demanded.

Luna and Ron silently pointed to the shoes sticking up from where Prentice lay. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron surged ahead.

"Hermione, where've you _been_?"

A guilty expression crossed her face, which, to an experienced investigator like him, was nearly as good as a signed confession.

He was about to press further when she seemed to sigh and deflate. "I got a chance to help people. There are more important things to think about at the moment, aren't there? For a start, we've got about seventy people trapped in a non-Apparition zone, with no fireplace, no windows, and a troll at the door."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "There are_ seventy_ people in here. You're not saying between us we couldn't handle a troll. We managed it when we were eleven."

"You _did_?" asked Luna keenly. She rustled in a fold of her dress and produced a notebook and quill. They ignored this.

Hermione crossed her arms and shook her head. Her mask was still on, he noticed.

"No, Ron – we_ can't_ risk the troll getting into this room."

Ron scowled. "Then we wait until the people come when they realise we're trapped," he said impatiently.

Luna leaned forward, quill poised. "What has been going on in this castle, _really_?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business!" said Hermione indignantly. There was the guilty look again, but Ron refused to believe Luna's theories out of habit.

"Let's sort this out, once and for all, right?" he said. "Hermione, have you personally, or are you aware of anyone kidnapping, killing, or harming Harry?"

"No!"

"Have you or anyone else kidnapped, killed, or harmed anyone else?"

The emphatic 'no' did not come. Hermione was looking at the ground.

"Hermione?" he asked faintly.

"Tell us," egged Luna. "We can help."

"You'll publish it in that magazine, more like!" said Hermione fiercely.

Luna adopted an '_I'll-have-you-know'_ expression, but Ron decided to get there first.

"She's thinking of writing a book, actually," he said.

Luna nodded seriously.

Hermione looked suspicious for a moment and ran her hands over her mask and up through her hair. It took Ron a moment to realise she wasn't laughing, but crying.

He steered her to one of the pew-like seats. She sat slumped for a moment, staring sadly out in front of her. She sniffled, and Luna sat down between them and patted Hermione's back.

Hermione, never known for her touchy feely nature, pulled herself together at this. She sighed and breathed in as though beginning a story.

"The Earl sent me an owl not long after the war ended," she said faintly. "He said he'd heard of me and that he thought maybe I could succeed with ending the curse where all those great wizards failed, and well, I was flattered. So this is what I've been doing for nine whole years while you've been out there building your life."

"You've still not figured it out?" said Ron incredulously. "Couldn't you just call it quits? I mean, it might be embarrassing to be beaten by a tree, but it would take the weight off your social life."

Hermione laughed sarcastically. "The oak tree is the least of my problems! I figured that out a year on in."

"So why are you still here? You could be Minister of Magic now," he said.

Luna had her notebook out again. She was scratching away frantically.

"It wasn't that simple," sighed Hermione. "Magic can't be contained because magic only lives in living things like trees or animals or people. It takes time to turn it into something that can."

Hermione started to wave her hands, a sign Ron had long ago recognised as 'lecture mode'. Ron was actually interested, but his tired mind started to drift as it always did during serious study. She seemed to be describing how her experiment worked…

Luna showed no signs of tiredness though. She was writing frantically, and her bulging eyes never left Hermione's face. Hermione seemed to forget Luna was classed as a reporter and seemed quite eager to go into detail, which put Ron off even further. He had to settle for picking out occasional words and nodding when Luna nodded.

Luna tapped her notebook. For a brief second she glanced at him as if to say '_here_' before her full attention turned to a wildly-gesturing Hermione.

He peered down at it and saw she had drawn a sketch in the silver ink she liked to use.

On the left was a stick-like tree (which she had helpfully labelled '_Cursed Tree'_). On the right she had drawn a square and labelled it 'cupboard'. In between the two was a small square she had simply called '_Hermione's Machine_'.

The idiot's guide to breaking curses, obviously.

Luna was apparently still engrossed in a discussion about magical potential, but she carried on with the diagram.

She wrote '_Machine is switched on_' underneath.

Next to Ron, Luna began to make a humming sound, as though the box in the middle had come to life. She tapped the paper with the wand in her right hand, and an arrow wiggled from the tree to the box. She tapped again, and another arrow moved from the box to the cupboard.

The curse left the tree, and the machine channelled it into the cupboard. That was simple enough. He understood _that_.

"So you can see the potential, can't you?" Hermione was saying to Luna. "It made sense to adjust the machine to work on other-"

Luna added another note. '_Machine switched off_.' The faint hum stopped.

"So I started research into some threats-"

She carefully crossed out the word '_Cursed_' in the diagram and copied it into the picture of the cupboard.

When the machine was done, the curse ended up in the cupboard, and the tree was just a tree again.

It all made sense, but why the secrecy? Why the-

Hermione was looking at the floor, as though she had just confessed something bad, and from the way she was glancing to him, she was nervous of his reply. Luna's bulging eyes were on her face. He'd tuned their voices out; had Luna said something?

He looked desperately between the two of them. The quill tapped the notebook again. He peered into Luna's lap.

Underneath the first diagram she had drawn another, exactly the same except this time there was a stick-man instead of a tree. She had labelled him '_Evil Wizard'_.

'Machine switched on'.

She tapped the parchment twice again. Arrows moved across the page.

Ron knew where this was going. He knew Hermione too well. He watched, though, in the dreadful hope that he was wrong.

'_Machine switched off'_

Luna drew a cross through the word 'Evil' and moved it across to the cupboard.

Luna made another note underneath the stick figure. It read '_My interviewees'_.

Hermione had found a way to remove bad magic from people. And she'd used it.

ooo

If you have any thoughts I'd love to hear them.


	3. Pilot 3 of 3

**Title**: Hex

**Author**: Emmylou

**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter is the property of J K Rowling. This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun story. The legend of the chained oak on which parts of this story are based belongs to Alton Towers, and by extension the Madame Tussauds group.

**A/N**: Thanks (again) to my beta and to the lovely people who reviewed – Meshpets, charma10, and Draco Spirit.

ooo

Wizards, as everyone knew, had no logical ability. Instead of banding together and devising a plan to escape, they had simply decided to carry on the party. They'd come expecting a good party and were determined to have one. Several guests sheepishly produced bottles of wine and plates of canapés from under their robes, claiming to have 'rescued' them from the troll's rampage. Some of the musicians were in the room too, and soon a merry jig was playing and couples were skipping in circles around the tree.

"Look," murmured Penny as she and Percy moved to talk to one of her colleagues across the room, "someone's fainted."

A pair of polished shoes was sticking out from behind the strange seats. Percy drew himself up and peered over them.

"I say! Are you quite well?"

"It's Lester!" said a horrified Penny.

Lester Prentice was indeed slumped, feet up, in the space between the two rows. Percy immediately reached to grab the man and haul him up.

"Some dirty scoundrel has stunned him!" he said.

Percy was disgusted. He had seen some terrible things happen in his life, but to think of someone stunning a fleeing man, it made him furious. Once Lester was awake, there was going to be a serious enquiry into it!

Penny woke him up, and Lester gasped as though waking from a nightmare. He rubbed his head.

"What happened?"

"Someone_ stunned _you, man!" said Percy.

Lester frowned and Percy patted his shoulder. He quite liked the man and felt terribly sorry for him. Although Percy really didn't have time for jokesters, he could recognise an upwardly mobile person when he saw one. Most of the upper sets knew Lester, even if no one really knew who he was. Lester always made time to talk to him and Penny whenever they met at parties and had once introduced him to a French wizard as 'Practically the only wizard in the Ministry with a clue'. Percy wouldn't be surprised to see the man take a high job in the Ministry himself one of these days.

Yes, a well-dressed, well-mannered, _successful_ person like that was well worth knowing. Percy made a metal note to offer the man an invitation for a small supper gathering in the coming week.

In the meantime, though, he was all concern.

"Come on," he said. "We'll take you over to my brother, you were nearby him during the troll attack – he might have seen something."

He and Penny each took the rather dazed man's elbows and started to lead him towards Ron, whose head was dipped in deep conversation with his friends.

Upon seeing them, Lester seemed to come back to his senses, and he delicately removed his arms from their support.

"No," he said, "let's not bother them."

"Now really-" Percy began to protest, but Lester's winning smile had returned. He looked surprisingly happy.

"No," insisted Prentice. He steered Percy and Penny away towards a chattering group of older witches. "Let's not ruin the night further. I'll go and surprise them later."

ooo

"You have a problem with this, don't you? You're going to tell me I was meddling!"

"You are!" bellowed Ron.

A dancing couple giggled at the fight and twirled on.

"Imagine that there is a witch or wizard with the potential to become the next Voldemort," she snapped. "You'd be all for sucking the power out of them then! With a relatively harmless, quick, and simple procedure, you could remove all the things that would build up to create an evil witch or wizard, leaving a fairly normal person."

"You cannot guarantee me that every person you used this on was set to become an evil lunatic!" he snarled.

Hermione jutted her chin out. "I didn't just do it on a _whim,_ you know, I do research on the person-"

"If you can accurately pinpoint every murderer ahead of time then, miss clever clogs, why do I spend my life hunting down murderers? Why did Prentice kill all those people, when, according to you, he should have been sat at home, knitting doilies…"

"I'm still working on the systems!" snapped Hermione. "Or, at least, I was-"

She suddenly looked very troubled.

"What?" he demanded.

He was closer to her than he'd realised before; he'd pressed right up to her face. She stepped back, breathing deeply.

"The cupboard we used…" she said in a trembling voice. "It was that one."

She glanced to the cupboard on the opposite side from the door. The door was wide open, and a drunken wizard was throwing up in it.

"I had a day off from work the day before yesterday," she said. "When I got back yesterday morning…the cupboard door was open. I locked the room up immediately, of course, but…"

"What will happen to all the evil magic?" asked Luna.

Hermione was pale. Even her hair looked limp and tired. "It'll try and absorb itself into anything living," she whispered.

Ron glanced over to the eerie tree as though expecting it to get up and attack. "Are we talking like that novel? _The Whomping Willow Attacks!_ Where it sneaks into people's houses and-"

Hermione bit her lip as though fighting a snigger. "No. The tree can only really hold the magic that was in it originally. There was a good deal more than that in the cupboard. My theory is that all the time in the cupboard made it something like a hive of dark magic, and so it will be trying to grow. People are the best source of dark magic; I think it'll try and infect them."

"But_ we're_ in here too," said Luna. Her serene face looked merely concerned while Ron was sure his own expression hinted of him wanting to climb the walls in anger and fear. Hermione simply looked nauseous.

Ron did not appreciate this in the slightest.

"So you're saying this evil magic is floating around in here with us?" he looked around as though it were about to loom at him. There was nothing visible, but in his mind's eye, the shadows in the room suddenly seemed darker, and the air tasted tinny in his mouth. "What's stopping it from infecting _us_?"

"Nothing," said Hermione faintly.

ooo

"I don't understand it," said Hermione some time later. They three of them were sitting staring morosely at the dancing pairs.

Were Hermione and Luna, like him, imagining dark strands of evil pouring into their ears and up their noses as they spoke?

Luna was drawing again; it seemed to be a plan for a future edition of the Quibbler. 'PANIC AS EVIL VIRUS SPREADS' was splashed across in big letters.

Hermione had forbidden Luna to publish anything about the events happening tonight without her permission, and Luna had agreed (under the prevision that she could write a book about it in the future). But Luna insisted designing the covers was her favourite way of sorting out the problems in her life. Her biggest problem was used for the headline, and she would know from that what her actions should be.

"Understand what?" asked Luna.

"It's just," Hermione frowned, "this room is off limits to everyone except me. The only other person who knows about the-" she glanced nervously to Ron, "um, _other projects_ in here is Sidney. And I don't let even him come in unless there's a-" she glanced to Ron again, "um, _project_."

"What does he do?" grumbled Ron. "Lick your shoes clean?"

Hermione's voice seemed very small. Ron hoped she had finally discovered what her holier-than-thou actions had done.

"He helps me, um, capture the projects and bring them here. Then he helps me take them back."

Ron's investigator instincts finally cranked back into life. He left a puzzled Luna and Hermione behind him as her marched through the crowd towards Sidney, who was polishing a whirring silver machine.

"You," he said, "you know these machines pretty well right?"

Without realising what he'd done, he snatched Sidney's robes and pinned him against the wall.

Sidney tried to call for help, but Ron's hands were on his throat.

"Y-yes," he wheezed.

"Well enough to work them, right?"

"Ron, what are you _doing_?" shrieked Hermione as she and Luna appeared behind him.

"Y-yes."

"I saw you before," hissed Ron, "it was all '_yes, Hermione'_, '_no, Hermione_'; you wouldn't breathe if she didn't want you to. I've been in love myself. I know what it's like to want to show her how worthy you are. So I'm guessing you took her day off as an opportunity to try and impress her, right?"

Ron's expression was so dark he was sure that Sidney would have answered yes even if he hadn't.

"Y-yes."

"Sidney?" said Hermione questioningly.

"You opened the doors, and you took some readings from these machines, right? You found a candidate for your little...project."

Sidney nodded, wide-eyed.

"_What was the name you got from the readings_?"

Ron's face was so close to Sidney that he could smell the man's sour breath and watch his brown eyes cast around for relief.

"Harry Potter," croaked Sidney.

Ron released Sidney instantly, and the man slid down the wall a little. He stumbled forward, coughing. Ron swung his fist, and the man's head cracked against the wall with the force of the blow.

"Ron!" squealed Hermione in a horrified voice.

"What. Happened?" growled Ron.

Sidney was hissing with pain, but his eyes didn't leave Ron's. He stopped and stood up, drawing himself to his full height.

"I captured Potter and brought him here. I set the machine to work, and afterwards, he seemed fine. A little woozy, mebbe. The Earl called me to bring him lunch, and when I got back, Potter was gone and someone had opened the door. I was scared, so I locked up and left it."

He straightened his robes. "Now if you'll excuse me," he said in a dignified voice, "I have people to serve."

He pushed past Ron and marched away, his cheeks glowing.

Ron didn't turn around to face Hermione and Luna. He could feel himself sliding downwards. He'd never hurt a suspect, even if they'd been guilty. He was so angry he wanted to scream. He wanted to grab Hermione and shake her and try and make her pay for everything.

"Ron…I'm sorry."

She was crying, he could tell from her voice. He remained still, eyes fixed on the stone wall.

"I didn't know about Harry, really I didn't. M-my Press-Reader and Historical Precedent Analyser must have thrown his name out, and Sidney thought it meant…"

Ron, if possible, stood even more stiffly.

When Hermione spoke it was in a soothing tone.

"I'm sorry, Ron. I was wrong-" her voiced hitched as around her, the noise from the party grew, "I just- I couldn't bare the thought of someone like Voldemort ever having power. I didn't want someone else like Harry to have to fight…"

Ron felt Luna step up behind him and rest her hand on his arm. "Mistakes were made," she said. "At least we have a chanceof fixing them."

Ron felt his own chest shake with blocked tears. He turned around to face the girls. Hermione threw herself into his arms before he even saw her properly.

"I'm sorry!" sobbed Hermione.

Ron stroked her hair. "I'll help you," he said. He glanced to Luna. "Both of you."

Luna gave a thankful smile.

ooo

Ron had something to do. Certainly within the last ten minutes, his responsibilities had piled up enormously, but he felt better doing something than nothing.

He actually felt strangely buoyant. The worst had happened. Now he could get on with planning, something which he was very good at.

His first task as official Harry-finder, Strategist, Magical-Virus-Destroyer, and (he fancied) All Around Good Guy, was to get rid of the troll and get the people out.

He, Hermione, and Luna stood by the door. The groaning of the metal indicated that the troll seemed to be winning. Hermione looked at the misshapen metal where the troll had pounded it.

"We're going to have to fight this troll, then?" she said nervously.

Ron nodded and began in his pre-attack, Hit-Wizard tone. "On the plus side, we've done it before; on the downside, we had Harry, and even then it could have been classed as a fluke."

"You know, you really shouldn't fight them-" began Luna, but she never got a chance to finish.

Percy had spotted Ron and marched up, looking highly peeved. "Ron, as a Ministry official, I feel it my duty to order you not to open that door," he said in his most officious manner.

"And as your brother, I feel it my duty to tell you to shut up," sneered Ron.

Percy drew himself up. "Just because you're a Hit-Wizard, it doesn't mean that you're in control. You didn't even realise your friend had been stunned!"

Ron frowned, alarm bells jangling. "What friend?" he asked.

"Lester!" burst out Percy. "I found him stunned in a corner!"

Hermione and Luna were looking nervously around, and Ron's face was frozen as he spoke dangerously, "You woke him up?"

"Of course!" said Percy.

"_Hello_!"

Ron didn't even have time to react. He felt the arm around his throat and the wand pressed into his neck. Prentice was so close Ron could smell the wine on his breath.

Hermione and Luna held out their wands warningly.

"Oh dear, and I was so hoping to surprise Ron later!" said Prentice as though he'd committed a terrible faux pas. "Now I for one am against unnecessary violence, but sometimes it does have its place. So Ron here is going to drop his –or rather _my_- wand."

The wand at his throat was pressing so hard Ron could barely breathe. The wand in his hand slipped from his fingers and clattered to the ground. Prentice was the quicker hexer, and smart bastard that he was, he'd pressed himself up against the door so no one could get him from behind.

He jabbed his wand away for a second, and the musicians cut off. Ron saw them glance at their instruments in puzzlement from the corner of his eye. Their sudden silence got the room's attention, and within minutes, every owlish face was on Lester.

Prentice grinned around at the room until he spotted Luna.

"Luna!" he said. "The girl with the pretty name and the pretty face – come here."

She was being careful, noted Ron as she glanced to him questioningly. He had no choice but to nod.

"Could you do me a favour, my sweet?" asked Prentice.

Luna glanced to Ron again. "Are you going to hurt my friend?" she asked serenely.

"I'll think about that later. But first you have to do my favour. Can you close your eyes?"

Ron stiffened. _Not that. Not that_…

"Why?" asked Luna.

He felt Prentice stiffen with anger, and Ron's stomach rolled as he remembered what Prentice had last done to a girl who asked too many questions. "You'll find out," he said.

This man killed casually…

"_Imperio_!" said Prentice. The crowd gasped but there was no change to Luna outwardly. She remained still with her eyes closed.

Several people took out their wands. _Finally _some of them seemed to realise action was needed and that no hero was coming.

"That's my girl," continued Prentice. "Now what the lovely Luna is going to do, is she is going to go around the room, and you are going to give her all your money, wands, and jewellery, and she's is going to put it all in my pockets-" the crowd grumbled, "-otherwise I will tell Luna to, oh, -what do you think, Ron? Choke herself, perhaps?"

Percy, hard-eyed, was marching forward. _Don't be stupid_…Ron thought desperately. He was letting Luna live for the moment. Percy might not be so lucky…

"Lester Prentice, as the only able Ministry official in the room, I feel it my duty to-"

"Be quiet!" snapped Prentice. "_Stupefy_!"

Percy slumped to the ground. Penelope screamed, and Ron found himself struggling in Prentice's arms.

Prentice kept his tight grip, but his voice calmed. "Better. Now, when my pockets are so full of money that I'll need an extra pair of braces to keep my trousers up, Luna here is going to open the door, and she is going to run out into the corridor to distract the troll." He tilted his head indulgently. "I mean, what troll could resist?"

"It'll kill her!" shrieked Hermione.

Prentice shrugged. "Eventually. When we – or rather –_ I_ – have escaped, I shall inform one of those nice Ministry workers that several of you are trapped in this room and need rescuing."

"I won't let you do that to Luna," Ron hissed.

"There, there," said Prentice comfortingly. "I'm sure she'll get an Order of Merlin or something nice. Posthumously, anyway. Now where is our little hero?"

Luna trotted forward obediently. She still hadn't been ordered to open her eyes, but she managed to stuff the wands, diamonds, and gold into Prentice's many pockets.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Hermione with a slight hitch to her voice.

"The short answer is that I like money," said Prentice with a winning smile. "The long answer is too long, and you wouldn't understand anyway."

He smiled at Luna and moved away from the door to allow her to stand by it. "Are you done now, dearest?"

Luna nodded.

"Take me instead!" said Hermione suddenly. "Luna's dad really needs her – she's all he's got. No one cares about me."

Ron snapped his head around and shook it frantically. He felt Prentice chuckle.

"Ooh, Ron here doesn't like that. It's almost worth changing my mind to upset him so much. But no." He turned back to Luna. "Ron, say goodbye to your friend."

Ron remained silent. Prentice pressed the wand in deeper.

"Goodbye," Ron croaked, struggling for breath.

"Luna, open the door," Prentice ordered.

The crowd gasped. Luna turned the handle. The heavy door swung inwards, and the gigantic troll came into view. It had to crouch to see inside the door, but it didn't move over the threshold.

"When I say 'go', I want you to run," said Prentice to Luna.

Luna's eyes were still shut, but she nodded.

"Fight him, Luna! Listen to my voice," yelled Hermione.

"Silence!" hissed Prentice. He held his wand out to Hermione.

Hermione paid him no attention. "Who do you trust? Me or him?"

"_Stupefy_!" snapped Prentice. Hermione threw herself to the side, and the hex skimmed passed her elbow.

"Go!" snarled Prentice.

His cool demeanour is being tested, thought Ron. He'll snap any second now…

Luna trotted forward.

"Harry fought it – you can too-" insisted Hermione.

Luna stilled at the mention of Harry's name and stood with her head cocked.

"Run, Luna!" shouted Prentice. "I _order you_ to run!"

Luna's body reacted automatically, and she inched forward, apparently still fighting.

Prentice's wand was flying from Luna to Hermione. Ron struggled against his arm and brought his punch up as he turned. Prentice staggered backwards, and Ron lunged for Prentice's old wand.

Three quick thinking wizards dived forwards to grab Luna and attempted to shut the door, but it seemed to damage any fighting she'd managed, and she began struggling to get out of their arms.

Prentice grabbed Ron's wrist and knocked the wand away. Ron pushed Prentice back and grabbed his throat.

"End the spell!" he demanded.

"Make me," Prentice gagged.

"No one else can undo the spell until she does when he's told her to," called Hermione fretfully.

Ron struggled for Prentice's new wand, which was still being tightly gripped. He prised it free and tossed it across the room. Several other witches and wizards were surrounding Prentice, grabbing any gold they could find and trying to find their taken wands.

Hermione raced across the room and slammed the heavy door shut on the growling troll.

"I've had an idea. You two, grab him," said Ron. Two burly wizards each seized Prentice's struggling arms.

"Keep fighting them, my pretty," called Prentice, unconcerned about his apparent capture. Luna struggled harder in the arms of the wizards.

"Right, show me how to work this machine of yours," said Ron as Hermione breathlessly returned.

She paused, stunned, as though she couldn't believe what she'd heard.

"I told you, it's hard the first time. He might not have enough power for it to work-" she began carefully.

She stiffened at Luna's angry screeches behind them.

"Maybe it won't, but at least the bastard will be in chains."

Hermione looked at him carefully, as though gauging whether he really meant it. Then she rooted in Prentice's pocket for her wand and tapped a part of the pew. It swung out in a quarter circle to face the cupboard door. Chains Ron hadn't noticed before jangled against the seat, and the two wizards dragged Prentice to it. The chains snapped around his wrists automatically.

"What are you doing to me?" demanded Prentice. One of the wizards jostled him for quiet. Ron was pleased to hear a note of worry in Prentice's voice for the first time ever.

"Keep still," Hermione ordered.

She carried a small, gramophone to a spot in between Prentice and the cupboard and pointed the shell towards Prentice.

"Everyone, keep back!" she ordered over the noise Luna was making. The group shuffled back nervously.

Scanning the room carefully, she reached down and tapped the box with her wand. It began to hum softly, and she moved away too.

"It might take some time…" she said worriedly.

A bolt like lightening shot out of the gramophone and hit Prentice's chest. He screamed. Luna stopped struggling and suddenly became very still.

Prentice was still screaming. Hermione checked her watch. "It usually finishes about…now…"

Another bolt shot out of the machine and hit the door.

"It's taking too much-" said Hermione, alarmed.

Prentice was suddenly quiet. He was shaking as though he was having a fit, and more and more of the light was pouring from him, through the machine, and into the door.

"What is it doing to him?" asked Ron urgently.

Hermione was all action. "I'm shutting it down!" she insisted. "Something's wrong."

Before she could reach the machine, the bolts disappeared. She moved over to Prentice, who was slumped in his seat.

Hermione lifted his chin up and said faintly; "H-He's dead."

ooo

"Hello, do I know you?"

"Trapped were we? I don't remember-"

A stream of party-goers were steered out of the chamber by rescue wizards. Everyone seemed baffled by the experience.

"Troll? Don't remember a troll…"

Ron winced. They'd overdone the Obliviate spell a bit. But at least no one remembered the attack or the death. He wished he was so lucky.

A burly man in brown robes held up a hand as Ron and Hermione practically tiptoed past him.

"I'm Vinnie Lochley," he said, waving a Ministry badge professionally. "I'm the leader of this team. What happened to your friend?"

Ron looked towards Luna, who had gone on ahead, pale but as normal as she ever was. It was only when he noticed Lochley's pointed look that he realised he was talking about Prentice, whose body they were carrying.

"Hello!" said Hermione in a bright, strained voice that she seemed to think made her sound like the other people coming out. "I'm- well I can't remember who I am actually…"

"Try," said a fed-up looking Lochley.

"Our friend got hit by a stunning spell, and he's still really woozy," Ron explained awkwardly. "People were panicking and using all sorts of stupid spells."

Lochley flicked his wand at a notebook and illegible writing scrawled across it.

"Mass hysteria?" he asked.

Hermione's frozen smile remained fixed. "Sounds about right!" she said brightly.

"Do you know what that room is?" pressed Lochley.

Ron looked back towards the room thoughtfully. He found himself wincing as Prentice's old wrist moved across his neck. There was no tight grip there now, just dead weight.

"I don't know!" said Hermione.

Ron tried not to scowl. That would only make them investigate further. "I think it's the Earl's research room, back when they were all obsessed with that tree. None of us knew what half the stuff was," he added quickly.

More illegible handwriting appeared, and Ron felt Lochley's suspicious look move across his and Hermione's faces.

"So good to hear about Fudge being the new Minister…" mumbled Sidney as he shuffled past. He was being steered by a Healer and Ron winced. They'd decided to take all of his memories regarding the research chamber. He hoped they hadn't overdone it.

Hermione's stupid smile looked as though she were forcing every muscle in her mouth, and if Prentice didn't move soon, Lochley might try and wake him up.

"I'm Ron Weasley," he said. "In case you want to note that down."

Lochley's eyes swung back to him. "Ron Weasley the Hit-Wizard?" he asked carefully.

Ron, who outranked him, smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, that's right. What's the situation? Have you caught the troll?"

Lochley looked annoyed, but he looked back to his notes before replying in his unemotional voice. "At seven, the ceiling in the entrance collapsed, causing mass hysteria and making people think a troll was after them. A small group got separated on the way out and ended up in this room. Our team found you at ten. We have swept the building and found no trace of a troll."

"But people saw it!" said Hermione, forgetting about her deranged act.

"No one in this room did," shrugged Lochley. He allowed himself a chuckle. "And the people in the ballroom each have their own weird stories. One witch said she saw a wand stuck up its _nose_."

"Really," said Ron hollowly. He was well aware of Hermione's eyes boring into him. "Well," he said with Hermione's false brightness. "Uh, good job. I'll leave you to it."

He clapped Lochley on the shoulder and staggered away as quickly as possible.

ooo

Ron didn't get a chance to really think about what had happened until much later on that night. It was three in the morning by the time he returned home.

He was lying on his sofa again. The house was still a disaster from the party, but he didn't care.

They had made the right decision. He had made the right decision. He told himself that. He still felt dirty, though.

That machine…

According to Hermione, it had never done that before. She said Prentice had died because the first time needed to be a slow process. The first time she'd used it, it had taken two years to transfer the power from the tree to the cupboard. They'd tried to make it work on Prentice in less than a minute.

They'd buried Prentice in the woods.

He'd always prided himself of never meddling. Never doing something for 'someone's own good'.

Ron's insides were rolling. He'd broken his rule once already. In punching Sidney, he'd allowed himself to let emotions get in the way. And Prentice had threatened his friends. Had there been a part of him that wanted Prentice to die for it?

He was going to resign tomorrow. He'd broken the rule, the only rule. He'd promised Hermione his help, but he didn't want to go back to Morton Towers.

ooo

The inside of the Lovegood residence was dark. Mr. Lovegood was asleep, and Luna didn't want to wake him.

She tiptoed across the tiles in the kitchen, her shoes in her left hand and a piece of parchment in her right. She left the parchment on the breakfast table and floated her trunk towards the door.

Tomorrow morning, Mr. Lovegood would find a piece of parchment with a fair rendition of The Quibbler logo and a personalised heading.

THE QUIBBLER

_The Truth is in Here: Personal Issue 382 : 02/12/06 : 1 Sickle_

**Luna Goes to Find the Truth**

She dragged her trunk over the threshold and hoped her dad would understand.

ooo

A pale sunshine lit up the stark, bare branches of Morton Forest, and the windows of the house glinted.

Ron walked up the gravel path to the house, eyes down, still wondering about his decision. Behind him, his trunk bounced of the occasional stone.

"Good Morning, Ronald."

Ron jumped. Luna was sitting by the lake. She was back in her relatively normal clothes: grey robes and only one strange piece of jewellery (a sweet wrapper pinned to her shawl).

"What are you doing here?"

"The same thing as you," she answered. Her breath was white in the cold. "I came up to the house and asked to begin work as a second research assistant. I mentioned that you would be applying too. Most of the upstairs house is in ruin, apparently, but I can share Hermione's room and there's a Gamekeeper's cottage you are more than welcome to stay in."

"Great. It's a pity Malfoy's dead. He would have had a field day with that," said Ron sullenly. He sat on the trunk and tried to rub some warmth into his hands. "Where's Hermione?"

"In the research room. She didn't want company."

Luna picked up a stone and held it up to the light. Ron tried to think of something to say.

"Did your dad mind you leaving?"

Luna stared at the lake. "I don't know. I left an…explanation."

Ron frowned. He'd thought Luna and her dad were close. But Luna didn't need prompting.

"After the war, Dad and I spent months abroad looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, and Thighbiting Cricklers, and all sorts of other animals. We didn't find _one_."

"Reall_y_?" said Ron, trying to sound surprised.

"I came back to speak to the people who'd sent in letters and articles. I thought an interview with them might give us some more ideas of where to look." She turned to him, eyes swelling with tears. "It turned out they were just…pranksters. They laughed at me. They said they'd only done it to see if we'd believe it. They were some of our most valued contributors," she said desperately. "They had letters and articles in every issue. It was all made up."

Her pale eyes were hollow, as though her mind felt empty with all her funny creatures and conspiracies gone. Her eyes returned to the lake, and her blonde hair swished in the breeze.

"I didn't know what to believe," she said faintly. "And then I interviewed Harry again, and he started visiting me and talking to me. He told me that I should find my own things to believe in, to look for conspiracies and animals of my own. And he was right, I found this one. I'm going to write a book about it one day. And it's going to be _true_."

She turned to Ron, a look of such absolute faith on her face that he didn't know what to say.

Luna interrupted before he could think of anything.

"Did you want to come back here?"

Ron shook his head and fixed his eyes out on the lake. "I keep telling myself I should be here for Harry, and for Hermione, and all those people who are infected with this…thing. But all I can think is that I'm here for Prentice. Because bastard that he was, I don't want him to have died for nothing."

Luna reached and clasped his hand. "If we can save these people and Harry, he won't have."

It was poor comfort to Ron's turbulent mind, but it calmed him enough to sit and take in the place that would be his new home.

He twisted the wand that had once belonged to Lester Prentice in his hand. It looked like Prentice really would not get it back.

For a while, they rested in silence. He had not felt like this since the war, this total uncertainty of what tomorrow would be like. His life had been unfulfilled before, but he had always had a fair idea of what lay ahead. What did he know about the future now? There were only possibilities and 'might's'.

He might find Harry dead. He might find him alive. He might not find him at all. This virus _might _wipe out the magical world. Hell, he might even get on with Percy again.

He wanted, needed, one solid thing to hang on to. Something he could define the future by, something that would make him get up in the mornings.

He'd allowed a man to die.

He stomped the thought down. That was a certainty. But it wouldn't make him inclined to hop out of bed.

He turned to Luna. "Can you think of one thing that's certain?" he ventured.

Luna didn't hesitate.

"I'm going to kiss Harry again," she said.

Ron frowned. "How is that certain?"

She smiled and pulled her shawl more tightly around her. "I don't believe in things people tell me anymore," she said. "Just the things I see and hear. But I still believe in two people- my mum and Harry. I'll see my mum again, and I _will_ kiss Harry once more."

He was no Luna. He couldn't find faith in faith itself. As wonderful as her belief was, he couldn't stir himself to think that way. He needed something to hang onto that had better odds than snogging Harry - or at least Luna doing so.

Hermione.

She was back in his life, and it was just, just possible that maybe the thing between them would stir again. He could hang onto that. Maybe when all of this was over, they could start a life together the way he'd dreamed of years before.

He closed his eyes and pictured their cosy future life. It was so real that he could smell the dinners and feel the warm bedclothes as they lay together in bed.

Perhaps though, that was a little high to aim for now. He needed something that, when he opened his eyes in the morning, would make him think '_maybe today'_.

A kiss. A simple, stupid, everyday, mouth-to-mouth kiss. They hadn't managed to get that far yet. A kiss that jubilation, relief, excitement, or maybe even grief could bring about.

Yes, he decided. That was something to look forward to.

ooo

Well, that's the end of the first episode. The next episode is going to deal with the virus's protection system, the Earl, a few little secrets of Hermione's, and a healthy dollop of Paranoia all around.

If you leave a review, whether praising or a critique…I'll just adore you.


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